


An Archive of Apologies

by Silver33650



Series: Tarnished Ghosts and Polished Shadows [13]
Category: Fortnite (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Letters, Memories, Mental Breakdown, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27815023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver33650/pseuds/Silver33650
Summary: Jules reads the letters her brother left behind.
Series: Tarnished Ghosts and Polished Shadows [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923190
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	An Archive of Apologies

The Authority, in Jules' humble and wholly unbiased opinion, was perfect. Perfectly constructed, perfectly outfitted, perfectly defensible. The only defect it had was that it had once belonged to Ghost, and thus they were stuck with clearing out all trace of their occupancy. The henchmen were given the task of going through everything, checking for any intel, but most of it was worthless at this point. They'd won. What more could they hope to find that they was useful?

Still, Jules figured it was worth taking inventory, at least, even if most of it was trash. They systematically cleared out the hideout, only keeping whatever Brutus and Meowscles wanted to keep; TNTina hadn't wanted anything, and they weren't going to ask Skye. (Although Jules couldn't help but keep the game consoles. Those were always useful, if only for parts.) Everything in her brother's office, however? Trash. She didn't bother going through it; she had better things to do. The island had so many problems now. Water, sharks, marauders, this joke of a rebellion Ghost thought it could mount. She couldn't care less about last season's garbage. 

So she was surprised when a henchman entered her office one day with news that they'd found something. He brought her to a very unassuming file cabinet, no different from the hundreds of others she'd seen, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "What's special about it?"

The henchman shuffled his feet. "Well, uh... it's filled with letters, and... they're all addressed to you." 

She pulled open the top drawer and pulled out the first sheet. _Dear Jules,_ it read, in a familiar hand. Her first instinct was to call it trash, but... Her stomach dropped as she skimmed the page. 

"Boss?"

His voice sounded very far away. She pulled out the next one. _Dear Jules._ The next. _Dear Jules._

"Wheel this into my office," she said. "And then don't bug me for a while."

* * *

_What are you hoping to find?_ she asked herself. She kicked her feet up on her desk as the cabinet was wheeled in. The henchman glanced at her uneasily, then left. She bolted the door shut as soon as he was gone. 

She flipped through each drawer and did a quick count. So many. Too many. When had he found the time? It would take her hours to read them all, weeks if she only did a few each day. What was the point? 

She reread the first one again. 

_Dear Jules, I hope these find you well, if they find you at all. Part of me hopes that doesn't happen, that these burn in the explosion and are lost forever, so that there's no hope of us ever reconciling. I know there's no chance of that regardless, and yet, I still felt compelled to write them. For what purpose, I cannot fully articulate, even after writing them all. Yet here they are. If you should find these, I leave it to your discretion whether or not to read them. There are many. Or perhaps there are few, and some were lost after all. I can't know. But I wonder, and I hope. Your older brother, Midas_

She would be a fool to read them. She was a fool for even bringing them in here. 

* * *

"Let me tell you a story," Chaos Agent had said, when he wanted her to lead the Authority. And at the time, it had been enough. It had even been enough when she saw her brother's desperate face in the ruins of the Agency, when she'd smiled, softly, at the splash when he was thrown in the lake. 

But it had not been enough, she realized, when she saw the shark get him in Ohm's last report. He'd be fine, she thought, uneasy, because of the loop. Wouldn't he? _Wouldn't he?_ Every day she checked Ohm's video feed and felt a little disappointed when she didn't see him. What if he wasn't all right? 

Chaos Agent had laughed when she'd told him about the shark. "I warned him," he said, but didn't elaborate. "He'll be back, but not to cause trouble. It's smooth sailing from here on out."

And then he'd left her to do as she pleased. He hadn't even explained why he was suddenly wearing white at the time. Nor had he ever explained why his mask had been gold since the failure of the device. 

So perhaps she had been a fool all along. So be it. She would read every last one.

Late at night, when the Authority was quiet, she sat in her office and pulled the next one out of the cabinet to read. Most of the letters in the top drawer concerned memories of their childhood, and she did remember some of them. But not all of them, and not in the same context that he did. 

_Dear Jules, I truly despised that mechanical frog of yours. That robotic ribbit ruined many a morning when I heard it during breakfast. You'll recall how eager I was to get it out of the house? At least once, that thing hopped into my bag and I had to leave it in the car during classes. The breaking point was only after I had a terrible dream that I'd been turned into it by an evil wizard. I endured it for as long as I could because you thought you could make it sound more musical. It was a frog, Jules. Not even you could turn an amphibian into an opera singer._

She had built plenty of machines based on animals; she had Ohm, after all, and plenty others. But she couldn't remember this exact one, or at least, she couldn't remember showing it to him. 

_Dear Jules, Do you remember when you tried to "fix" my record player by adding that awful remixing contraption? I hated what it did to my favorite jazz record when I first heard it. But I must admit, the track has grown on me. Sometimes I play it and think of you._

She knew what song he was referring to, but when she tried to think of the specifics, about the actual event, she came up blank. At first, she just thought he was lying. It was what he was best at, after all. But the more she read, the more she found it strange just how specific he was, about both what he could and couldn't remember.

_Dear Jules, There was a time- do you remember?- back in that tiny little apartment on the west side, when you decided to play jenga with all those dirty boxes and I finally had to turn all of them to gold because I was worried you'd get sick. There was spoiled milk in several of those cartons, Jules. Disgusting, but you never let a little mess get in the way of your work. I suppose we're alike in that way, although I, at least, have some standards._

That did sound like her. But she didn't remember it.

_Dear Jules, Did we ever go to the beach? I don't think I would've enjoyed it. Sweaty Sands is a downright dreadful place, and I regret setting foot there. There's sand everywhere in my shoes and at this rate, I'm going to have to replace them entirely._

She _did_ remember them going to the beach, but it was Sweaty Sands. Wasn't it? If it was, then why wouldn't he remember it? The more she read, the more confused she became. She was glad when she finally finished them, and was able to move on to the second drawer. But that feeling didn't last very long. 

* * *

"What do you want, Jules?" Brutus asked. 

Jules slid over the letter and waited for him to read it. "Are you still helping Ghost?"

"And if I was?"

She hesitated. She'd expected him to just deny it. But she wasn't sure if she wanted him to outright stop. Ohm flew over the Fortilla all the time, and it was honestly depressing, watching them fight off sharks and grow cabbages while she was protected by an industrial wall and ate ice cream whenever she wanted. So she'd try a different avenue. "Do you know where Midas is?"

He shook his head. "Not my priority."

"But you're working on it."

"Why do you think I take so long to review Ohm's video footage?" She had been wondering about that. He waved the paper. "Are there more of these?"

"A lot."

"All for you?" She nodded. "You don't have to read them."

She knew that. He'd told her that in the first one. "But I want to," she said, surprising even herself. 

* * *

She got to learn a bit more about the Agency, about Ghost and his agents, who he'd chosen for the mission and why. It amused her that he thought she would make friends with them; the whole island was populated by her subjects now. She didn't need friends, anyway. She had her machines, and she built whatever she wanted, and that most certainly didn't include doomsday devices. Although she considered it, when she thought of Ghost hiding out at the edge of the map. 

"All in good time, Jules," Chaos Agent told her, whenever she asked about them. "They're no threat anyway. You just keep up the good work, and let me know if the owl spots anything."

As if there was any chance of her knowing something before he did. As if Brutus would report anything useful even if something did happen. Maybe it was time to start reviewing the footage herself. 

By the end of the drawer, he was writing more about his goal, about stopping the storm. 

_Dear Jules, I worry that this storm isn't what it appears. The fierce winds, the electrical currents, and most of all... the purple fog and mist. Why is it purple, Jules? Have you ever known a storm to be purple?_

_Dear Jules, How hard, do you think, would it be to get anywhere if you didn't have to worry about the storm chasing you down?_

But then there was this obsession with the loop. 

_Dear Jules, Just so we're clear, there is something to be said about the benefits of being kept out of the loop. (I apologize for the awful turn of phrase.) The other agents don't seem affected by it the same way I am. I had my reasons, Jules. That much, you can be sure of._

_Dear Jules, I fear this loop will be the death of me and I won't even realize when I become a ghost. Isn't that a strange thought? I'm already a ghost._

_Dear Jules, There are so many faces I recognize here, day after day, breaking into my Agency and trying to steal my gun and get into my vault. Perhaps choosing their favorite item as my personal weapon was a mistake, but it's so damned fun to use. You did a good job on it, Jules. I'm sorry for never thanking you, because I'm sure I didn't. I rarely did.  
_

Jules couldn't understand why Midas seemed to resent it, consumed by this need to document it and prove that it was unnatural. She didn't know much about it, but she knew it was part of the reason the Authority was never in any real danger from intruders. 

She asked Chaos Agent about it, but he just laughed. "The loop is a wonderful thing, Jules. It's a shame more people don't understand that."

So he was of no help. Jules hoped Midas would discuss it more, but the third drawer was filled with memories again, with a significantly different tone. 

_Dear Jules, You were supposed to be like me. "Gold and jewels" was what our father always said, and whatever he did worked on me, but not on you. And when it was obvious that it hadn't, I had to get you out of there. I don't know what he would've done if he'd realized what you actually are. I don't regret getting you out of there. I never have._

_Dear Jules, Out of all the things I never told you, the one thing that bothers me most is the thing I can't tell you. I don't know anything about your mother. Our father never let me see her. I'm so sorry._

She didn't really remember any parents. Was she supposed to?

_Dear Jules, I'm still aghast that I so late to your birthday. But perhaps it was for the best, because we looked up at the sky like we used to, and you saw the meteor. And that was the beginning of everything._

_Dear Jules, I lied in that last letter. Everything began in the park. Not in the park, but in the place beyond the park. Where the butterfly flew, into its lair. I hope you are being very careful, Jules. You don't know what it's capable of, and I fear it may be too late for me already._

_Dear Jules, The hardest day of my life was when you left._

That was where the letters became shorter, more incorrigible, sometimes mentioning things he wasn't sure he'd really seen. His handwriting became erratic. Lines slanted. Parts were struck out and smudged and written over in larger, bolder strokes. As if he was just writing whatever came to mind. As if there was no mind left to process it. 

_Dear Jules, Why can't I remember the name of the city where we worked? Or the name of the street where we lived? Or the country we lived in? I can't even remember the name of the planet. How do you forget the name of a whole planet, Jules?_

_Dear Jules, Stay very, very far from Redacted. We named it that for a very good reason._

_Dear Jules, Who drives the battle bus? What's the point of thanking them?_

_Dear Jules, I despise it when a Jonesy shows up here.  
_

_Dear Jules, Where does the butterfly go when it rains?_

_Dear Jules, I have to try._

_Dear Jules, We don't have any other choice._

There were a few pages with just "Dear Jules" written on them and nothing else. She flipped through the last stack. Some of the pages were completely blank. And then at the bottom was a proper letter, the handwriting once again immaculate. 

_Dear Jules, I may hate this island, but the sunsets are lovely. Even if they don't make any sense._

_Do you ever wonder if the sun feels burdened by its responsibility to the planets it holds in its grasp? That it's aware that someday, in some not-so-far-off future, it will be the death of all of them? Do you ever wonder if it worries about that day? I know I do. In both senses, since I'm sure you've picked up on the metaphor._

_I've been told that you're kept mostly indoors there, that you're just as busy in your new lab as you were back home. But I hope that, at dusk now and again, you'll watch the sun set and think of your brother without all the mistakes he made, because he's always loved you and always will._

_Your older brother, Midas_

Jules blinked a few times, surprised to see the words blurring. The page had looked perfect when she'd started, but now... She set the paper down and laid her head in her arms, and cried until the letter was just as smudged on the page as it had been in her eyes.

* * *

Jules is no spy, but she still knows how to be sneaky. 

Swiping Brutus' Agency keycard, strolling out of Steamy Stacks with a barely tenable excuse. Slipping into enemy headquarters, sliding down into the hideout below. Seeing the meeting room where the holomap she'd built sat in the center, staring into each empty room on every floor below, except the lowest. 

Snooping around the hallway, sweeping her fingers over things she somewhat remembers, spotting him near the suit. Slinking up behind him to see him place a hand on the glass and stare at it in sorrow. Standing still when she notices her reflection appear. Seeing his eyes shift toward hers with a sigh and a scoff. But he doesn't turn around, and she sneaks out as silently as she came in. Swooping out of the Agency, scowling her whole way back to Steamy Stacks. Stomping back to her room, sulking every second till the storm surges. Speaking nothing of this to anyone, not even herself. Sending him out days later, sporting a strained smile. 

But now that memory was shattered, shards shifting into something new. She thought he'd seen her shadow, but he'd mistaken her for one of his ghosts. 


End file.
